In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

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      The betrothal ceremony was over. Philip and Mary Jane were dancing while everyone else looked on, smiling in approval, feet tapping to the merry music the minstrels played.

      ‘It will be your turn next, Kathryn,’ said a lady standing to her left. ‘Sir John will find you a husband, my dear, and you may put all this nonsense behind you.’

      ‘I am still in mourning for my husband, Mistress Feathers.’

      ‘Oh, you will soon discover that one man is very much as another. I have been married three times and there was nothing to choose between them. Money, power and children will bring their own content. Love is merely a myth.’

      Kathryn felt her throat closing and the tears were close. This insufferable woman knew nothing of love! She could feel the grief welling inside and knew she could not stay in this room another moment.

      She turned and left the hall, which echoed with laughter and music. Snatching a cloak that lay carelessly on a chest in the anteroom, she went out into the chill of the night air and began to walk, tears trickling down her cheeks as the grief spilled over.

      ‘Lorenzo, my love,’ she whispered to the night. ‘Come back to me…oh, please, come back to me. I cannot bear this life without you.’

      ‘Kathryn! Please wait!’

      She turned as she heard Michael’s voice calling to her. She had hoped to be alone, but the one person she could bear to be near at the moment was Michael. He had been with them in Venice and in Rome. He understood her better than any other, and he cared for her—which it seemed her father did not.

      ‘You should not be out here on this bitter night,’ Michael scolded her. ‘It looks as if it will snow before morning. If you continue like this, you will become ill.’

      ‘If I am ill, my father cannot force me to marry a man I neither know nor love.’

      ‘He would surely not be so unkind!’

      ‘He has spoken of it. Everyone tells me I must forget Lorenzo and put the past behind me, but I cannot. I love him. I shall always love him.’

      ‘But to force you into marriage…’ Michael hesitated. He had not intended to speak so soon, for he knew that Kathryn was suffering. But he had fallen deeply in love with her during the time she had nursed him back to health, and he could not bear to see her so unhappy. ‘Your father has been courteous to me. Do you think he would accept an offer for your hand from me?’

      ‘I cannot marry you. It would not be fair to you, Michael. I like you very much. You are a good friend—but my heart is with Lorenzo. I fear it always will be.’

      ‘I meant only to save you more unhappiness. I would take you back to Rome, to your friends. You were happy there, Kathryn.’ He moved towards her, looking into her face, her eyes, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek. ‘It would not be a true marriage at first. I would be patient, Kathryn. I would wait until you felt able to be my wife in truth.’

      ‘Oh, Michael,’ she said brokenly. ‘You make me ashamed. You are so good, so kind—but if I accepted your offer I might ruin your life. Supposing I could never love you, could never give you what you wanted?’

      Tears were trickling down her cheeks. She could taste their salt on her lips. Michael put his arms gently about her, not imprisoning her but holding her in a comforting embrace, his lips moving against the fragrance of her hair.

      ‘I love you, Kathryn. I would wait for ever and count it a blessing to be of service to you.’

      She gazed up at him, tears hovering like crystals on her lashes. ‘But you spoke of asking Isabella Rinaldi to be your wife?’

      ‘My father wishes me to marry and I must oblige him, for he grows old and it is important to him. Isabella is pretty and I like her—but I love you. I have loved you since I first saw you, but I knew you saw only Lorenzo. I did not imagine that there was hope for me then…’ He left the rest unsaid, for to remind her would only cause her more distress.

      ‘Oh, Michael.’ Kathryn wiped away her tears. ‘I pray you, give me a little time to think. Perhaps…I do not know.’

      She could not bring herself to say she would marry him, and yet she would rather it was Michael if she must marry again. Yet was it fair to take what he was offering her, knowing that she would never be able to give him more than second best?

      ‘Say no more for the moment,’ Michael said and smiled, taking her by the hand. ‘Come back with me now, dearest one. I cannot let you walk alone in this bitter chill. Lorenzo would not demand that your life be sacrificed to grief, Kathryn.’

      ‘I wish I was in Rome.’ Kathryn sighed. ‘It was so much warmer.’ She smiled, feeling better than she had in weeks, allowing him to lead her towards the light and heat of the great hall.

      The music had stopped quite suddenly. People had started talking, whispering excitedly one to another. She sensed that something had happened to change the mood of the evening. Kathryn’s nerves tingled, feeling a prickling sensation at the back of her neck as Michael led her into the room. Everyone seemed to be looking in the same direction, at something—someone! Her heart stood still as heads suddenly turned towards her and Michael, and then the guests were parting, like the sea for the Israelites departing from Egypt, suddenly silent. She gasped as she saw that a man dressed all in black was walking towards her.

      She felt as if she were in a dream, her head spinning as she saw him clearly. Her senses were reeling. Could it be—or was she in some kind of feverish nightmare? Her face had drained of colour and suddenly the ground came zooming up to her. As she fainted, two men moved to catch her.

      It was Lorenzo whose arms surrounded her, sweeping her up as she would have fallen, lifting her effortlessly. His face was grim, eyes dark with anger as he looked at Michael and saw the jealousy that the СКАЧАТЬ